‘The Dark Ages of Racial Segregation’

Monday, January 4, 2016

Currently, Arizona is one of only a few states that actually enforces racial segregation within its prison housing locations. This means that Caucasians can only bunk up – or cell – with other Caucasians and so on and so forth. There are a few exceptions to the rule for people like myself who are actually classified as ‘other’. I can. For any reason, be housed with any race.

Over the years that I have been in prison, a part of me has always believed that it was the administration’s higher powers who continued segregation in hopes of preventing the races of coming together. If all races saw themselves as equals then surely, they would be a force to be reckoned with. By allowing the races to be divided, race wars typically result – or at least, a war between one particular race, and not the others. Since Arizona prisons are my only experience, I can tell you that this is exactly how it plays out. Though I am not a supporter of segregation, I know it began long before I was alive and so, I have had to conform to the ideologies of this particular correctional system.

This past month however, The Arizona Department of Corrections, has in effect, began planning to integrate the races in their housing assignments. I was secretly elated at this news. I admit that at times, I believed it was surely nothing more than a pipe dream, but I was wrong. I was so wrong in fact, that tomorrow marks the 1^st day of racial integration in my particular unit.

Over the past week, I have been silent to those around me. People who I have considered close to me have begun to let their true colors come out. All of a sudden, I am seeing how racist some of these men are. I can somehow understand how men, who have been incarcerated for many years (like myself) would become set in their ways. That is not the case however. Instead, I am seeing men in their 20’s, who have been in prison for only a few years, (some even less) suddenly having an issue with being housed with races other than their own. It’s incredibly disheartening to me and at the same time, thought provoking. Were these racist thoughts/beliefs simply latent inside them? Is prison so intensely conforming that it can change people’s logical thinking in such a short period of time? Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer to this question but it is curious just the same.

It’s no secret that the skinheads have accepted me in their own way and of course, they make it clear that I can absolutely live in a bunk or cell with any one of them. Anyone else of color however – is unacceptable. It begs the question of: why me? Is it possible to be selectively racist? I suppose we can all be somewhat racist, given a person’s character, but what is it that convinces people to drop their bias and accept certain individuals?

I have listened to guys go on and on about how they would live with a Black, but not a Mexican American or a Native American. Some claim they will not live with a Black but only a Mexican American. Inside, I wonder how these men came to these conclusions. Are we not all human beings in this world? Haven’t we gotten past this stage of history? I suppose not. I guess we instead simply choose to remain silent in our beliefs because after all, it is 2016.

So here I am. I am in a melting pot of cultural bloodlines and I find myself guilty of the exact same thinking.

For example, if a form were to come around with various races on it with check boxes next to each and I was forced to choose (1) to bunk, or cell up with, then I myself would choose Caucasian. In my case, I don’t know if that decision is racially motivated or not. My choice would be tied back to my association within this environment. It just so happens that I have more close acquaintances/associates/friends who are Caucasian. Does this mean that I am racist against Blacks, Mexican Americans, Native Americans and Asians? In my heart and soul – it doesn’t. But maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps this is exactly how others will see it.

Time will tell how this all plays out. One thing is for certain though, I am glad that my journey in this chapter of my life is almost over.

 

‘Unlikely Friends’

Monday, May 18, 2015

Throughout the months of March and April, I was experiencing a significant amount of disdain for the people I lived around. The particular hut that I lived in was no longer seen as an ‘Honor Inmate’ location and therefore, was used to house anyone. I became acutely aware of the fact that almost everyone around me was smoking the synthetic drug ‘spice’. If they weren’t smoking it, they were friends with others who were.

Spice is an epidemic in prison and I am sure it is outside these walls as well. I am not going to elaborate on drugs in prison because. I assume that my readers are intelligent enough to realize that drugs are a problem here. The unfortunate thing about spice is that it is impossible to test for it in here. It literally makes people act insane and frequently, they simply fall out and stop breathing. All in all, these are not good things – and living around people that partake – was really not a wonderful experience. The ‘Spice Heads’ (as I call them) combined with the drama from work and being on call 24/7, caused me to reevaluate my situation.

I drew the conclusion that I needed to move across the street to Yard 2 and live around individuals that I have not only known for many years (at various prisons), but also, knew that there would be no drama, no spice and a certain amount of camaraderie. This is a much better situation except for one detail. The individuals I live with now are skin heads. When you take that into account, someone like me should not – in any way – be accepted as a friend, or into their fold. I pretty much stand for everything they don’t and you would think that it would be the basis for a big, big problem. Oddly however, it has never been an issue and believe me when I say, that these are not new friendships in the making. I have been friends with a few of them for over 12 years now.

I have debated for awhile on whether or not I should write about this particular subject because I do not want to come across as a total hypocrite to my own people. I also do not want to appear to be a supporter of skin head nation. What I do want to do is to open peoples eyes. We all have different beliefs and ways of life. We all judge and have our limits. Many of us believe we are ‘right' and that others are ‘wrong’. Sometimes, we have no sensible explanation for things and when people ask me how I could possibly be ‘friends’ with these guys, or why I think that they are friends with me, I give the reasons as I see them. Unfortunately, they have never experienced the same things I have and cannot understand what I speak of. For you reading this, I will try to break down the reasons and maybe, just maybe, you will understand why we have come to a place where we accept one another.

Before coming to the North Unit in Florence, I was always unlucky to have been housed in some of the most violent prisons in the state. 95% of the time, I was the only homosexual accepted because of how I carried myself. Also, I have always straddled the proverbial racial fence because of my mixed heritage, of how I speak and behave. My overall prison demeanor has always pretty much been testosterone storming, masculine, and very “take no prisoner” in disposition. Tough characters relate to one another. 

In addition, when you go to war with someone, or in our case a riot – you learn a lot about people in their most vulnerable form. A couple of these guys I am living with now have literally pulled me out of harm’s way because they respect my character. They have fought for me and stood up for me at times when I was unable to do so for myself. That is really the only explanation that I have and all I can hope, is that somehow you can understand how this very unlikely group of friends has developed.

I moved to Yard II on the 21^st of April and decided I would rather be at peace, around people I knew and trusted then to stay and deal with the nonsense of where I was.

Since relocating, I have been able to hear myself think. I am not bothered by a bunch of immature inmate shenanigans and a huge bonus here: nobody smokes spice. There are only 200 men living on this particular yard so I have a small circle of friends. Really – that’s all I need.

My new mailing address:

David R McKinney

#169947 YD II - 4E 16

ASPC Florence – North

PO Box 8000

Florence, AZ 85132-8000